September 18th Torreon to Parral
Two hundred and three miles today up to Parral in the infamous Chihuahua State. Although there are lots of warnings about the dangers of this state from drug traffickers, I reasoned that if I stick to main roads and stay in towns with decent accommodation I should be fine. Having watched a video of someone being mugged in Guatemala I started the day with all my valuables packed away and my GPS tracker packed in a zip at the rear of my inflatable cushioned seat. Spare keys, credit cards and wallet all hidden in various places to meet all eventualities, I thought.
Once on the road away from Torreon, all these thoughts disappeared. The stunning countryside and long straight roads with light traffic soon make one's mind drift to different places - thoughts of home, future places, future plans and future commitments to one's self. Learning Spanish being one of them. Very few people speak English here. As I headed north I noticed that it was greener (more rain) and a few degrees cooler (nice), though there was scenery the looked like the western films of old. This particular shot was a little oasis surrounded by a dry and dusty landscape.

After a quick drink here and a top up of fuel (no running on empty again) I was on my way. I continued along the longest stretch of straight road I have ever experienced - must have been about 80 miles. On the way I saw a train coming in the opposite direction and again this was the longest train I have ever seen - at least a mile long, with I guessed around 50 trucks all the size of a juggernaut. If only all our freight was delivered in this way, 50 lorries off the road in one hit! Wouldn't that be great for the environment.
Because of this long stretch I broke my 70 mile rule, but was pleased when I saw what looked like Carn Brea (Cornwall) in the distance with some signs of life beneath it.

It was here that my bike was eventually christened and I feel somewhat appropriately. After taking this shot, packing away the camera and putting on my parking brake I proceeded to dismount from the bike. This is a difficult operation with all the luggage, panniers and very high seat height. As i planted my right leg on the floor and hopped away from the bike with my left leg stuck out at 90 degrees (I've done this many times) to the vertical, I felt the bike start to fall towards me. I flung myself out of the way as a quarter of a ton landing on one's leg doesn't make a pleasant sight. It's funny when these things happen it always seems in slow motion, or is that just me? The bike landed with a crash and I quickly picked myself up off the floor. I've done well on this bike as my previous bike I'd dropped within the first week!!
One's immediate reaction in situations like this is to quickly try and pick the bike up and this is what I did, but it wasn't budging, a chap of similar vintage tried to help me, him on one side pulling and me on 't'other' pushing - it was like an episode of the Chuckle Brothers, TO ME TO YOU BARRY. He eventually called his Grandson and with his help the bike was up in a flash. On close inspection there was no harm done, the pannier had taken the weight of the bike and there were just a few scratches on the plastic protective corners the pannier and on the hand guards that fit on the handlebars! Phew. Good old German engineering, thanks Touratech. My weight lifting group had disappeared before I had chance to thank them. I then decided to move the bike to a more stable place and get myself the drink I needed. It was only then that I started to feel  pain in my left little finger and it looked a little twisted. I thought 'Oh no, I've dislocated it,' I hurriedly yanked on it to pull it straight, but there was no shooting pain or real discomfort, so I reasoned, no dislocation, just a bit of swelling. A quick paracetamol to take the edge off and back on the bike.

Back in one piece and vertical!!

I could see the looks of the spectators to this mishap looking at me, surely thinking 'What is that old guy doing?' My pride was hurt but Peter Pan was on the road again. The cyclist amongst you, who use clip in pedals are aware of the term being christened, after their first fall with these contraptions - this set me to thinking of actually christening my bike. I've never given inanimate objects a name before, but I was so pleased she was still in one piece and survived her first test that I decided Pete Pan needed an accomplice. I thought it trite to call her Tinker Bell and Wendy was too boring (no offence to any Wendy's out there). After about 10 miles I settled on Belle (Beautiful but not a Tinker).
The rest of the journey went without mishap and I descended into Parral. It was lush and the most European of places I'd seen so far and one could easily have mistaken it for  Northern Spanish town found in Galicia. It also seemed quite affluent and tidy with a good infrastructure. My hotel was very swish too, the best yet, but also the cheapest. I reckon all this drug money must be funding its prosperity, but I wasn't complaining .
One of the first thing I do when I get settled is to hook up to the wifi - this one was super fast and I was alarmed to see a number of messages from Jen asking if I was ok in a panicky kind of way. She had been sent a number of SOS messages from the GPS tracker and apparently so had my friend Bruce. The previous night in anticipation of entering Chihuahua I had entered their numbers into the control panel and was going to do a dummy run the following day once I'd figured out the procedure  worked, then I would explain to both - I didn't want to unduly alarm them unnecessarily, after all by signalling that I was activating this feature.
As it turned out they were alarmed, unfortunately. But reassuringly it proves it does work!! O
One of two things must have happened, it was set off went the bike was dropped or while riding and readjusting my bottom, which I do frequently,  I sat on it. I'd placed it inside my padded seat on the basis that it wouldn't be spotted and I could easily press the button without arousing to much suspicion! Sounding like a good idea at the time.
Anyway, because of this shenanigans , I have decided that my Honda is now called Tinker Belle ( Beautiful but mischievous).


PS If I had stayed calm I could have picked the bike up myself - there is a technique I discovered on Youtube - You place your back against the fallen side and use your legs (strongest muscles) as a lever to push the bike up. If it happens again I'll remember to try this one